


Heat of the Moment

by Scavenge4Dreams



Series: As Easy As... [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drowning, Fire, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Steve, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Feels, Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:25:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2754368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scavenge4Dreams/pseuds/Scavenge4Dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What’s worse than watching the one you love hurt?</p><p>Hurting the one you love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where There's Smoke...

A small shove had the last bag fitting perfectly into the only remaining gap, and Steve stepped back, arms crossing over his chest as he surveyed his efforts with a satisfied nod.

Everything was perfectly packed; nothing squishable beneath the heavier things, nothing likely to move about and cause damage or distraction, and most importantly, nothing forgotten. 

He was sure that he had everything he would need.

Save one. 

Unnecessarily brushing his hands off on his jeans, Steve breathed deeply in preparation of his coming task. Crossing the pristine garage floor, stepping into the elevator, he looked upward, speaking aloud, “Workshop please, JARVIS”, and the floor shifted beneath his feet, taking him to collect the most important part of his plan.  
________________________________________

For all his considerable size, Steve Rogers moved with unexpected stealth. 

It was possibly a result of the serum, but Steve thought it was more likely a remnant of the first few months after the procedure, when he'd felt like an elephant trying to navigate the crystal-ware section of Macy's. After the second doorknob had broken off in his hand, and he’d shattered a third glass in his too tight grasp, his movements had become almost comically deliberate, as he’d carefully controlled his drastically changed body,

Things had settled as he'd eased into his new form, getting used to the increased strength and size, until everything that should have been unconsciously instinctual had returned to being so, yet some of his newfound stealth had remained.

But really, at 6'1, weighing in at a decent 200 pounds, and making no considerable attempt to stifle the sound of his approach, he wasn’t exactly being quiet.

And even if the repetitive thud of his hiking boots echoing loudly in the silence of the workshop hallway hadn't been enough, he'd have thought his standing in the doorway and calling "Tony?" would have.

Across the far side of the room, hunched over one of his work stations, Tony hadn’t even looked up. So apparently not.

Steve couldn’t even blame the too loud music, if it could be called that, which usually assaulted the eardrums of anyone brave enough to venture within two floors of the workshop. The floor was quite this afternoon, the silence of the workshop itself only broken by the soft scrape of metal on metal as Tony did whatever it was Tony was doing.

Whatever it was, the genius was completely absorbed, so engrossed in his work that he seemed completely oblivious to the outside world, including the man trying to get his attention from the doorway.

Steve sighed a little, not of anger or upset, but more of exasperated affection, tinged with indulgent amusement. Cocking his hip, he relaxed into an easy lean again the door frame, one hand coming up to rub across his jaw, hiding a smile as he studied his unaware lover.

Tony was, as always, a vision. Burning intense and hot, a vivacious expression of life and living that never failed to take Steve’s breath away. Graceful hands danced in a pattern known by instinct, eyes flashing molten heat with whatever brilliance was fighting to escape. Lips pursed, upturning occasionally into a small lilting grin of pure pleasure, or deep satisfaction, a pink tongue darting out to chase determination and resolve.

And yet, looking more closely, beyond the fraying mask that was Tony’s public persona, beyond the ‘Stark’, Steve saw things that made his heart ache in equal pain to the pleasure he gained from just such an image.

Closer scrutiny, by one who could see, revealed lines drawn at the corner of tight lips, and vibrating tension settled deeply into hunched shoulders. The too intense sheen of unseeing blankness across focused eyes, with circles, dark and heavy beneath. Shadows of fatigue an almost tangible burden over the bowed figure. 

Tony was often tired, sleep deprivation a seeming side effect of genius, or perhaps simply a result of being Tony. But this? This was something else, something much heavier, deeper and more worrying. 

Tony was completely and utterly exhausted.

They’d had a busy few weeks, all of them, with four separate attacks all registering as ‘world-ending’ on their newly implemented scale, and then Clint had gone missing for a week, two natural disasters had called for super powered relief and Bruce had Hulked on national television.

Naturally, Tony had been present at all four attacks, providing much needed areal support. He’d barely slept during the week Clint had been missing, finally being the one to decipher the archer’s lame-ass attempt at a coded message, and he’d planned the subsequent rescue. He’d not slept the four days during the tsunami clean-up in Thailand, and two days later they’d been called to the mudslide, which had been an unforgiving, filthy, hellacious task- Tony was still complaining about mud in the suit joints a week later. And questioning Natasha’s sexual entanglements within the Avengers team, on national TV, was a truly bad idea. Especially in front of the man who turned into an enormous green rage monster. It had taken Tony eleven hours to get Bruce back, and a further four to get Bruce back to the tower. And then he’d had to deal with the press.

And that was just the Avenger related incidents. Stark Industries had also been through the grinder, with a workplace shooting in their Bangkok office, an issue with a stolen patent, a drop in stock value which no one could account for, the members of the board getting cold feet during a huge merger, and Pepper getting seriously ill with pneumonia.

And they were the ones Steve knew about.

To say Tony was exhausted was an understatement. Mentally, physically, emotionally, in every way possible, his lover was completely wrecked. And yet, Steve hadn’t been able to get him to stop working for more than an hour or two.

And he’d tried. He’d taken Tony to lunch, to dinner, they’d done movie night with the team, a movie with just the two of them, a walk in the park, a visit from Rhodey, coffee, sex, cake… and each time, Tony had retreated back to his workshop within moments of finishing said activity.

Steve wasn’t sure if it was over-tiredness, nerves, instinct, or something else entirely that was driving his lover to burn himself out completely, but whatever the case, Steve really needed him to stop, take a breath, and sleep for a good week.

And he planned to make it happen right now.

Asking wasn’t working, and well, Steve always had been a man of action.  
________________________________________  
“Oh my g- what the fuck!” Tony’s yelp of surprise morphed seamlessly into an exclamation of shocked confusion, both anger and amusement lying undeveloped beneath, waiting to for him to determine the situation. 

Steve simply grinned, settled a hand at the small of Tony’s back to keep the writhing form steady as the smaller man attempted to release himself from Steve’s grasp. Unsuccessfully. Steve knew what he wanted, and he was going to get it. 

“Oh hush.” The captain said, patting Tony’s hip as he turned swiftly, ignoring the startled shriek and sudden death grip two hands found in the back of his shirt.

As he stepped into the elevator, Steve felt Tony huff a breath against the middle of his back, and then half relax against him, as he fully realised that he wasn’t in any danger. His voice was muffled against Steve’s shirt, but mostly amused, as he said, “Okay. This is happening. Why is this happening?” 

“Plans. I have plans. ” Steve replied, chuckling when he felt Tony still his incessant fidgeting as curiosity got the better of him.

And that’s how Steve Rogers found himself traipsing down the hallway toward the garage with Tony Stark draped over one shoulder, wailing, “Camping! But Ste- Camping. Like with tents? Campi- I don’t- Camping, Steve?”  
________________________________________  
Steve tried persuasive, “It’ll be fun-” 

“-said no one ever. Nope. Down. Lots of work to do. ” Tony cut him off, wriggling in a vain attempt to slide down Steve’s body.

Steve tried bribery, “I have coffee…”

“We can have coffee here. Or in Paris. Or- ” Tony shot back, pointedly.

Steve tried cajoling, “I’ve got us all packed and ready…”

Tony grumbled, poking Steve in the side as he kicked a foot half-heartedly, answering predicably, “Well, unpack and get unready. I’m not camping. I’m not a camping sort of guy.”

Steve tried sweet talk, “But you’re my sort of guy, and I’m a camping sort of guy, therefore…”

“You’re logic is not sound.” Tony replied flatly, although Steve could hear the smile underneath, and knew Tony was wavering.

Steve tried guilt, “I really want to go, and I really want you to go with me.”

Tony huffed a breath, choking on his own bitten off answer, slumping against the sharp angle of Steve’s shoulder, defeated, but not willing to admit it, “What if I put my foot down, and refuse?”

“I hardly think you’re in a position to be able to put anything down” Steve replied, saccharine sweet.

“Oh, bite m- fuc-ow!” Tony yelped as Steve’s teeth nipped against the fleshy part of his thigh, the sting felt even through the thin material of his sweats.

Steve just laughed when Tony’s hand slapped at him with an accompanying “You asshole!”

“Just following orders” he blonde replied dryly, one hand coming up to rub soothingly at the smarting area, although he did seem to mostly just be fondling Tony’s ass.

Tony slumped bonlessly, his weight negligible across Steve’s shoulder, muttering beneath his breath, “Should have told you to ‘kiss my ass’ instead”.

Steve of course, heard perfectly, and as he deposited Tony into the open passenger seat of the non-descript SUV, he replied, “Later. In our tent. Because camping.” 

He cut off any further complains by shutting the door in his lovers face.  
________________________________________  
Steve slid in behind the steering wheel, adjusted the seat, moving it back to allow greater leg room, fished for his seatbelt, clicked it home across his torso, repositioned the rear view mirror, checked the side mirrors and turned the key, the engine purring to life beneath them.

He turned toward his reluctant passenger, and taking in the wide eyed look of bemusement directed at him, he felt his smile become a grin become a laugh. Unable to help himself, he leaned across the expanse separating them, one hand curling into the hair at the back of Tony's head, pulling him in to meet halfway, capturing willing lips with his own.

He pulled back from the kiss, Tony chasing his lips for a second before he huffed, sitting back into his seat. Steve reached across, dragged his partner’s seatbelt down and clicking it into place with a grin as Tony rolled his eyes and snorted.

“What about the Avengers? We’re two of their main heavy hitters, and you’re the Cap- we can’t just-”

“Reed and Xavier are apprised of the situation and on standby.” Steve shut him down with so little effort that Tony bristled.

“I am head engineer for a major Company, I can’t just-” Tony tried, one last ditch attempt.

“I already checked with Pepper.” Steve played the ‘Pepper’ card, and Tony knew he was beaten.

"Okay Captain camp-a-lot, roll on" Tony groused, settling back into his seat as Steve pulled out of the sunken garage driveway.

It became apparent, that while he’d reluctantly accepted the change of plans, Tony wasn’t in the mood to accept defeat gracefully. For the next half hour, as Steve slowly escaped the city traffic onto the wide-open highway, he was treated to a constant barrage of sidelong glares, huffs of breath, eye rolls, fidgeting and various pulled faces. 

Steve found it adorable more than anything else, although was careful to keep his amusement from showing too obviously, not wanting to push Tony from quarrelsome to outright belligerent.

Steve was the ‘man with a plan’ though, and he’d accounted for Tony’s less than congenial mood. As he navigateg the last of the city streets, and passed out onto the freeway, Steve flicked the radio on, his pre-set channel pumping soft easy-listening music through the speakers.

Tony looked askance at the radio, but didn’t change it. 

Within 10 minutes, he was half dozing against the window as the road stretched out before him, and his lover grinned softy from the driver’s seat.

He’d been right. Getting Tony out of the workshop, away from responsibility, and work, and even to a certain extent, away from their fellow Avenger’s, was the right call. A chance to relax, without having to keep up appearances, or be the dependable host, because for all that they’d become a makeshift family to each other, there were some things in which Tony, as the home owner and to be honest, money provider, wasn’t able or willing to share the burden of.

His lover had been strung tighter than Clint’s bow for the past month or so, and sometimes even Tony needed his control taken away, needed to be able to be completely dependent on someone else, and Steve was determined it was going to be him.

A sideways glance showed Tony stifling a yawn as he puddled further into the rich upholstery, his fingers tapping along to the music slowly as his eyes dipped closed. Steve smiled, and thought about opening his mouth to tell Tony to get some sleep, but knowing his lover, he was pretty sure that Tony would take that as challenge to do the complete opposite, and fight to stay awake. 

And really, with the unfocused eyes half hidden beneath lethargically blinking lids, Steve doubted he needed to say anything, it was just a matter of time befor-

Tony suddenly paled slightly, his eyes widening as he sat up abruptly, his alert brown gaze sharp as his gaze flew to Steve. 

Something in those eyes looked a lot like panic, guilt, shame and Steve began looking for a place to pull off as he spoke, “Tony? What’s wrong?”

The abrupt flash of overwhelming emotion disappeared as fast as it had come, but despite Tony’s assurance of “Oh, nothing. I’m fine”, Steve could see the wariness and upset in the still way Tony held his body.

“Something just went through your mind. You’re worrying me here-” Steve pressed, carefully splitting his attention between the road and his partner.

Tony sighed, cutting him off with a self-deprecating laugh as he replied, “Really, I’m fine- I just…” Steve could all but see the blush rising on Tony’s cheeks, shame or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure which.

He didn’t get a chance to think on it overly, before Tony continued, his voice full of hesitation and doubt, “Am I- Did I- Is it our anniversary or something? You’re birthday?”

Steve’s breath escaped him in a puff of relieved amusement, “Tony, my birthday is July 4th and our anniversary is December 12th. What’s the date today?” 

“Um…Thursday?” Tony hedged, the flush to his cheeks definitely embarrassment now, although he looked hugely relieved.

“Oh Tony. It’s June. June 6th to be precise.” Steve sighed, hopelessness colouring his tone, but his eyes were laughing.

Tony shoved Steve’s shoulder lightly, grumbling, “Oh shut up. It’s not my fault that Genius doesn’t keep regular time-”

“-doesn’t keep any time at all. And hands off the driver.” Steve shot back, breaking his own rule while saying it by enclosing Tony’s hand within his own, squeezing reassuringly as he continued on a more serious note, “I just thought it might be nice to have a weekend to ourselves, that’s all. And, Tony, If you had forgotten, which I’m pretty sure will actually happen one day- it’s okay. I’ll be disappointed, and maybe a little upset…but you show me you love me every day in so many ways, that conventional reminders are little more than tradition. ”

Steve could feel Tony staring at him, the weight of the near reverence in his gaze both disconcerting and a little heady, and Tony all but breathed, “What did I do to deserve you?”

Steve had so many answers for that question, on so many different levels, but he didn’t think Tony was ready to hear them, and so, instead, he answered, “How did you put it? ‘Revolutionised clean energy, privatised world peace, saved the world…breakfast time.”

“God. Please tell me I didn’t actually say that. When did I say that?” Tony moaned, ducking his head.

“Oh- right after, ‘Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist’”, Steve replied, his voice heavy with supressed laughter.

Tony sat back up, his eyes narrowing, his hand pulling against Steve’s, no doubt with the urge to swat at his teasing lover again, and he shot back, “I did not. I never said that. I know I didn’t say that.”

“No, you’re right. It was more ‘Revolutionised clean energy, privatised world peace, saved the world…Captain America booty call time.” Steve mocked, his hand tightening around Tony’s as it pinched at his thigh.

“God- you’re incorrigible! If only the world knew how innocent and pious you aren’t.” Tony bit back, but he was laughing, so Steve counted it as a win.  
________________________________________  
It was mid-afternoon when Steve finally coasted to a stop in the small deserted parking area, more a field that had been cleared of sticks and rocks than any officially designated spot.

It was a Phil suggested area, and so Steve had known it would be perfect, and just looking through the vehicle windscreen, he could tell the Agent hadn’t let him down. 

It was simply called Upper Valley, and the name hardly did it justice, excepting the fact that it was the upper of two Valley’s, ringed on three sides by long mountainous ranges, casting inky shadow over the basin below. They’d traversed the only road into the little known campground, a good 100km of dirt track, with mountains rising up on either side and to the front of them, only the rear unobscured by vegetation.

And such vegetation, thick and overgrown, with the Valley’s acting as a catchment area for the mountains, water was hardly ever scarce, allowing an abundance of flora and fauna to thrive. The campground itself was just beyond view from the parking area, but Steve already knew what he was likely to find. A small cleared meadow of vibrant grass, and a shallow trickling river that flowed deeper into the valley. 

A simple paradise on earth, and for the next four days, it belonged to Steve and Tony alone.

Looking across to the passenger side of the vehicle, Steve smiled at the sight of Tony, still curled up against the window, fast asleep, as he had been for the last two hours of their four hour journey. 

Loathing waking him any sooner than necessary, but not wanting to leave him in the car when the campsite was out of view, Steve reached across and ran his fingers through loosely snarling waves, speaking softly. “Hey, we’re here”, and watched as Tony slowly came awake with a soft whimper of reluctance.

God, but how he loved this impossible, difficult, brilliant man.

Twenty minutes later and Steve was kind of wishing that he’d left Tony to sleep in the car.  
________________________________________

“I don’t think that peg goes there.” Tony said matter of factly.

“If you’re so sure, why don’t you come help?” Steve asked, reaching for a second peg.

Tony started as if to move towards him, and then slumped back as he exclaimed, “I’d love to, but only Ironman does menial labour, and unfortunately, my boyfriend conveniently left him at home.”

Steve sighed, but then he’d known that this would come up at some stage, best just get it over with, “If I’d believed you could go four days without tinkering, I might have brought it. I didn’t bring the shield either, or our cells. I’ve got the emergency signal, but that’s it. Tech free weekend.”

“Of course a tech-phobic savage like you wouldn’t know where to put that peg”, Tony shot back, the tiny twitch of his lips the only indicator that he wasn’t actually being nasty.

Steve ignored the comment from the peanut gallery, and slid the peg into the spot that it definitely belonged, no matter what Tony was saying.

“I am an engineer, you know. I build things for a living. And that peg doesn’t go there.” Tony explained, leaning back against the tree he was standing beneath, looking quite cool and content, despite the dry heat of the early onset storm season.

Extending the second part of the peg, Steve brushed the beading sweat away from his forehead, and then fed the material of the tent over the frame, sliding it gently over the exposed metal. He was unable to resist shooting a smug look in Tony’s direction when it snapped into place and was decidedly tent shaped.

“Well, if I’d known you were trying to build a tent…” Tony replied, cocking his head to inspect Steve’s handiwork, “I suppose it’s structurally sound.”

Steve just shook his head, and moved to sort out the rest of their belongings, spreading their sleeping bags out neatly in the open tent, and piling the cooking utensils and miscellaneous things that he’d obviously though they might need, into a pile around the coolers that held their foodstuffs for the weekend.

“Of course, If I’d designed it, I’d have put double sided zippers. Or at least a warning for blond people, about making sure the canvas isn’t inside out.” Tony continued.

Steve looked at Tony, looked at the tent that he’d, yes, put together inside-out, and then looked back to the boyfriend who’d watched him put it together inside out.

Three seconds later, Tony wasn’t so much leaning against the tree, as flat on his back below it, with Steve pinning him to the ground, both of them laughing between kisses as Tony was thoroughly punished for his cheek.

Very thoroughly.

When he pulled back several minutes later, Tony was panting slightly, sprawled out in a languid puddle beneath him, his skin flushed from a combination of arousal and heat, his kiss swollen lips softly pouted in a silly smile. 

Steve was sure his own smile matched.

Feeling sweat drip an uncomfortable line down between his shoulder blades, Steve sat up further and turning toward the creek that trickled invitingly at the far side of their camp area, he said, “I’m going to get cooled down and cleaned up before bed- join me?”

It was a gamble, Steve knew, and he felt Tony stiffened a little beneath him, before relaxing again, as he turned brown eyes on the softly flowing expanse of water several feet away. It wasn’t very deep, probably waist high at its deepest, and it did look ridiculously inviting in the cloying heat.

So much so, that anyone who hadn’t almost drowned three months ago, hadn’t been water boarded, didn’t wake up screaming at night unable to breath, would probably already be in the water. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to- I brought wipes, and there’s bottled water, or I don’t mind if you go native-” Steve reassured, not wanting any tension or fear to dampen what he hoped wold be a perfect weekend.

Tony’s hand covered Steve’s mouth, stopping the flow of words as he said, “One question. Will you be there? Naked?”

Steve grinned, but hearing the true question, he stood, offering a hand to Tony and lifting him to his feet, replying with a sly grin, “I’ll be there, but if you want me naked, that’s something you’ll have to take care of.”

Tony’s reply of “Not a problem”, was probably the most honest thing he’d said all week.  
________________________________________  
Steve shifted slightly, dislodging an uncomfortable pebble from his right butt cheek, before settling back into his makeshift armchair, formed by a hollow in the creek bank.

He was well and truly beyond pruned, and well and truly beyond caring. It was quiet, peaceful, with a certain tranquillity present that didn’t exist in any city, and Steve savoured it. The gentle flow of water just reached his underarms, washing away the lingering heat of the day, and he revelled in the cool perfection of the creek.

And the contrasting warm perfection that was Tony’s sleeping form, cradled in his arms. With one arm looped laxly around Steve’s waist, and the other curled between them, palm splayed flat over his lover’s chest, Tony was fast asleep, with his head pillowed against Steve’s shoulder, his eyelashes and breath a soft occasional flutter against over sensitised skin.

Tony had been cautious at first, staying to the edge of the creek, at its shallowest point, knee deep in places, but not beyond. Slowly though, tentatively, he’d ventured out further, although Steve was pretty sure he’d been the lure that had driven Tony from his shallow safety, and had deliberately stayed to the slightly deeper sections.

Within minutes, Steve had found himself knocked from his feet, Tony a laughing, splashing propellant, cannoning into his chest to take him down, and Steve had returned in kind, laughing and splashing in the water, gentle and careful and observant.

Horseplay had naturally devolved into very wet making out, with Tony straddling one of Steve’s thighs and pulling him down into a kiss heated enough that Steve was sure the water should have been sizzling around them.

Making out could have easily turned into sex, but instead had gentled into nuzzling and quite intimate talk, Steve thanking Tony for coming with him, and Tony admitting that maybe this whole camping thing really wasn’t all that bad. Eventually, Tony had simply stopped answering, his head dropping to Steve’s shoulder, his eyes closing as much needed sleep claimed him.

Just three months ago, and Tony hadn’t even been able to stand the mere sound of their shower, and here he was, trusting Steve in water so different, and yet so similar to that in which he’d drowned.

Steve couldn’t find the words to express how absolutely proud he was, of Tony’s resilience, his courage, his indomitable nature. 

Or how so very, very grateful.

Shaking away the thoughts that still legitimately terrified him, Steve turned to the horizon, noting the shadowy haze; the sun was beginning to set. He thought about food. And the effort it would take to prepare something, and the effort it would take to release his hold on Tony, and decided that he really wasn’t all that hungry anyway.

In the end, he simply stood slowly, lifting Tony with him, careful not to splash, knowing that really wouldn’t be a good way to wake Tony. He didn’t bother with towels, or clothes or any of the other things he probably should do, but instead he just crawled into their tent, slumped carefully into the centre of their sleeping bags, pulled Tony to his chest, tangled their legs and let his mind wonder, and eventually, sleep.

________________________________________  
Steve woke some five or six hours later, which indicated that Tony wasn’t the only one suffering from lack of sleep. Even so, having over slept his usual four hours, Steve still felt tired, almost drowsy, and wondered what had woken him.

Tony was still fast asleep beside him, half on top of him, one hand curled under Steve’s arm, and the other resting against his hip, and while it was possible the he’d murmured or shifted in his sleep, Steve didn’t think that was what had woken him. It wasn’t a call of nature, and he wasn’t overly hungry or thirsty. 

It could have been the unfamiliar terrain, or a noise from their natural setting, but something just felt off, and Steve grew more uneasy the longer he contemplated.

Eventually, knowing he’d never get back to sleep with how worked up he’d gotten himself, Steve slipped out from beneath his lover, smiling when Tony murmured something unintelligible and curled in on himself.

Pressing a kiss to soft, river clean hair, Steve got to his knees, crawled the few feet to the tent opening and unzipped quietly, stepping outside, stretching to stand as he exited.

For a second, everything was fine, nothing seemed out of place, the creek still trickled softly to the left, and the stars twinkled overhead.

Then he breathed deeply, and the smell hit him.

Smoke. Thick, cloying, choking.

And behind him, the entrance to the valley burned.


	2. Raging Inferno

Blurred by darkness, smoke and distance, the gaping mouth of the valley was a towering glowing haze, colossal and terrifying in its sheer size.  Even as Steve watched, colours started to solidify, amber, crimson and glittering spiraling patches of gold splashing across his vision as the fire raged toward them.

Denying the reality of his disbelief, his complete and utter unpreparedness for such a sight, Steve shook himself from his shocked stupor.

They had to move. Now.

He ducked to crawl back inside their previously cosy tent, which suddenly felt ten times smaller, the air seeming stale and sweltering hot as it dragged at his throat. Steve was plagued by strange dread, his fear trying to convince his mind that the fire, unseen, unheard, was just outside, set to consume them at any second.  
  
It was Tony’s completely normal presence that calmed Steve’s racing mind.  Tony hadn't stirred, hadn't even moved from where he'd curled into Steve's vacated spot a few minutes earlier, his fingers fisting the empty area in unconscious protest.    
  
"Tony. Tony, wake up. We've got to move." Steve prompted, voice intense and focused, adding a gentle shake for urgency.  
  
To his credit, Tony's eyes opened almost immediately, wide and alert, which for someone who usually met Steve with hooded sleepy eyes until at least noon and/or four cups of coffee, was actually a little unsettling.  
  
"Trouble?" Tony asked, and Steve mind snapped back to the situation at hand with a startling jar.  
  
"Wildfire- we need to leave." Steve replied, knowing Tony was likely expecting something more super-villainous than Mother Nature.  
  
"Fire. Okay. Shit. Right- If we call for an evac, how much time?" Tony asked, sitting up and scrabbling out of the tangled mess of sheets wound around his legs.  
  
"None. Clothes and shoes- we've got to move, now." Steve replied, pulling the first shirt he laid hands on from their bag and tossed it to his naked lover, following it with a pair of jeans, before dragging his own shirt over his head.  
  
Tony reached for his trainers, grabbing Steve's at the same time, dumping them between them as he pulled the left on, tying the laces securely.  
  
Crawling back out the small opening, the first thing Steve noticed was that the smell of smoke now permeated the area. It wasn't subtle anymore, it was thick and cloying and damn near visible, wisps starting to form in the air around them.   
  
Tony climbed to his feet beside him, already turning to take in the approaching wall of flame.    
  
And ‘wall’ was the most apt description Steve could think of. In just the few minutes he'd been in the tent, the fire had crept closer with alarming speed.  Steve could make out individual plumes of flame that danced with their neighbors.  
  
"How fast is it moving- how far has it traveled?" Tony asked,   
  
Steve tried pinpointed the exact spot he'd been staring at earlier, but the smoke and the fire were too obscuring. "Can't tell- but it's moving fast, very fast"  
  
Shielding his eyes with his hand, Tony tried looking beyond the fire, to see how far back its path still blazed, asking "Do you think we can make it through?"  
  
Steve considered, "Not in the car- we might burst through with enough speed, but the road is pretty narrow, and if we lose it in the smoke, or it's blocked..."  
  
"Boom"  
  
"Yeah- I'm not willing to risk it on foot either." What Steve didn't say was that if he had been alone, he might have attempted to go through the fire on foot, trusting his enhanced speed, agility and healing factor.  
  
But he wasn't alone.  
  
"We head further up the valley then, outrun it until it burns itself out, or we find a way out." Tony reasoned, his eyes tracking the progress of the fire, assessing, theorising, calculating, before continuing, "We'll have to go on foot- there's no way we'll get the SUV through that undergrowth"

“The far canyon wall has been climbed before. It’s not exactly beginner, but we can make it up that if we have to,” Steve replied.  
  
"Let’s go", was all Tony said, obviously not dwelling on the fact that less than ten minutes ago he’d been peacefully asleep, and was now running for what very well might be his life.

 Steve headed off at a steady jog, following the line of the river as it wound out of sight of their camp, Tony falling into step beside him. 

* * *

 

Steve set the pace, a steady loping stride, faster than a jog, but not yet an outright run. Beside him, slightly to the left and half a pace behind, Tony matched him step for step.

  
It would probably have made more sense for Tony to set the pace, his maximum speed being the lower of the two, yet Steve knew that, if allowed, Tony would push himself far beyond what he could endure, trying to allow for Steve's greater ability.  
  
The river was a steadily meandering path, a glistening guiding beacon that snaked off into the dark. The soft trickle of water as it swept by was a welcome distraction from the growing cacophony of snaps and hissing pops from behind them.   
  
The fire was gaining.  Steve hadn't chanced more than a fleeting glance over his shoulder, but the quiet of the night was slowly fading beneath the dull roar of the approaching flames, and he could feel warmth starting to prickle at the back of his neck.  
  
Darting around a rock that lay half submerged at the rivers edged, Steve breathed a warning to his partner, "Watch your step".  
  
He felt more than saw Tony nod, also altering his path slightly to avoid the rock.  
  
They'd been silent for the past few minutes, about 15 since they’d left the camp, each seemingly lost in their own panicked thoughts and getting into the steady repetition of the movement.  
  
Stressed, agitated and scared, Tony of course, took his mind off their current situation by running his mouth.  
  
"Camping, he said. Peaceful and relaxing, he said."  
  
Glancing across, and seeing no actual anger or blame, Steve replied, “Roasting marshmallows on an open fire, he said"  
  
Tony snorted, stumbling half a step as they rounded a bend, "Open fire! Yeah, okay. Shall we strip off and dance around it too?"  
  
"Not a view I'd be opposed to seeing. Like,  _at all.”_ Steve shot back, glad for the wicked grin he caught from the corner of his eye, and he wondered slightly at the state of their lives, if bantering back and forth was the norm when running for your life from a raging inferno.

“And people think  _I_  have a mouth on  _me_ ”, Tony threw back, inclining his head to slip beneath the overhanging branch that Steve had just ducked beneath.

“You do often have a mouth on you.  It’s not my fault that it’s usually mine.” Steve grinned back, feeling the adrenaline thrumming through his veins.

Tony actually stilled for half an instant, Steve’s continued movement prodding him back into action as he replied, “Usually?! What do you mean usually! Yours is the only – oh, except that one time with Clint”

Steve finished with him, “-that one time with Clint. Yeah. Exactly, although the less said about that the better, I think.”

“Agreed” And it truly was agreed. Definitely not the timing for that kind of Story.  Actually, Steve was pretty sure that no timing was right for that particular story.

Thinking about Clint though, Steve asked, “Do you think Clint and the others have caught this yet?”

Tony seemed to brighten slightly as he answered, hope catching on his voice, “JARVIS was monitoring the area, so I’d imagine they are already on their way here.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to intercept them?” Steve asked, his own hope rising.

“Maybe. It’s pretty dark, and smoky, and neither of us have our Comm devices, so no tracking, but if anyone’s going to be able to spot us, it’s Clint with his creepy bird ey-”

Steve wasn’t sure if the wind suddenly changed direction, but whatever the case, thick cloying white/grey smoke suddenly engulfed them, cutting visibility completely.

Steve stopped on a dime, an arm flinging out to catch Tony as he overshot lover’s unexpected halt.

Tony curled in against his side, and wrapped an arm about his waist, even Steve turned sharply, trying to keep his bearings in the sudden onslaught of smoke. 

Tony tried to waft the air between them, but it made little difference, and Steve felt viciously nauseous as he breathed in and the acrid thick smoke coating his mouth and throat. Beneath his arm, he could feel only just feel Tony’s chest inflate, his partner obviously trying his best to breath shallowly. 

“Shit! Shit, fuck. I can’t see a fucking thing. Can you see anything?”  he heard Tony ask from just below his left ear.

“Very little. Blurry outlines at best. Stay close- I don’t want to lose you in this.”

 “’We need to- keep m-moving.  Stay low-“

Tony choked on the third word, and spoke around rasping hacking coughs as he breathed in a lungful of the smoke.

“Tony- Is-” Steve tried, but Tony cut him off, already tugging him into movement again.

“Keep go-  _Keep going_!” Tony gasped out and Steve felt his heart stutter as he heard the rattle of Tony’s lungs around the last word. He’d grown up with asthma, he knew the pain, the fear, the danger..

“Tony!- You need to-”

 Steve once again found himself cut off as Tony replied, “No- noth- thing you can do. Just ke- keep going!”

And Steve realised that Tony was telling the truth. There was nothing he could do, except get them out of this smoke as fast as possible, and so he led the way. Following the bend of the river, peals of thick smoke curling away from them as they cut their path through.

* * *

 

They stopped for a mouthful of water, using the moment to try to catch their breaths.   Both knew the break was for Tony, who’d been stumbling along, half blind in the smoke for the past ten minutes, his breathing a raw rasp at Steve side.   Both knew, and for once, Tony didn’t fight him on the coddling, knowing that he’d be more of a liability if he didn’t take a break.

Neither one had turned to look at the fire, but Steve could feel the skin on the back of his arms reddening from the heat, and knew that they were almost out of time.   The pops and crackles of burning, breaking twigs had long since been drowned out by the constant roar of all consuming flames, only the loud gunfire like cracks and occasion thuds spoke of larger branches and entire trees giving way under the onslaught.

The fire had gained, eating up the ground behind them faster than Steve had thought possible, but he was pretty sure they were going to make it.  The canyon wall was only another half mile or so. 

They’d make it.

“Come on, we’re almost there.” He said, pulling Tony back to his feet, and the two of them set off again at a slightly increased pace.

They had to make it.

Something close behind him cracked, and a dull thud caught Steve’s attention. Something wasn’t quite right about the sound, something niggled at his brain. It had come from too close behind him.

Steve stopped, swiveling back to look over his shoulder, just catching Tony pulling himself back to his feet, brushing leaf matter from the palms of his hands.

Immediately he pressed closer, hands moving to settle on Tony’s shoulders as his eyes trailed over his lover’s body, as he asked urgently, “Tony? Are you oka-”

“It’s nothing. Keep going.   _Steve- we ha- have to keep going!_ ” Tony reminded him when he desperately wanted to stop, to check, to know.

But the fire was right behind them, and Steve knew, if he looked, that his entire field of vision would be flame.   Tony and flame.

He kept moving.

It only took him 34 seconds to realise that Tony was limping, badly, and cradling an already swelling wrist against his chest.   It only took him 34 seconds because Tony didn’t say anything, didn’t slow, didn’t stop pushing himself like Steve wouldn’t have believed possible for any other man. But then, this was Tony Stark.

Steve didn’t ask, and Tony didn’t say anything. Steve just looped Tony’s arm over his shoulder, wrapped his own around Tony’s waist, and propelled them toward the canyon wall that was looming up before them.

They made it.

Only Steve knew they were never going to be able to climb it.  Tony might have managed with just the leg injury, but he’d definitely need both hands.  Steve could, in theory, carry/drag them both up. But not in time.

The canyon wall was already almost unbearably hot beneath his hand, and the fire was so close he could feel his hair stating to melt, hear it sizzle, and smell the noxious burning smell.

They were too late.

And he was kind of waiting for a quip from Tony, his beautiful, ‘Laugh in the face of danger’ Tony, about owning a really awesome suit of armour that would be really nifty right about now.

But Tony, when he turned within Steve’s supporting embrace, and looked him square in the eye, simply said, “You need to go”

Steve just stared at him for a moment, thoughts running through his head, trying and failing to compute the fact that Tony actually thought that _Steve was going to leave him._

Was  _ever_ going to leave him.

Steve continued staring for an instant longer, and then simply scooped Tony up, one arm beneath his knees, the other at his back, cradling his injured lover against his chest as he waded into the large pool of water nestled against the canyon wall.

Tony went rigid in his grasp, and then his breath left him in an exaggerated huff and his voice was  _furious_ when he spoke, “Put me down.  Put me down and  _Climb the fucking wall, Roger’s! You need to go! Now!_ ”

Steve didn’t still his advance into the water, small waves rippling at his knees as he hoisted Tony higher, settling the wildcat that had seemingly replaced his lover more firmly into his grasp.

His voice, when he spoke, was matter-of-fact; sure and no-nonsense, “Would  _you_ leave me? Is there anything I could say that would convince you to leave me here to burn to death? And if you say yes, then you Tony Stark, are a god-damn liar.”

Tony stilled.  Closed his eyes.  Breathed.  Then giving one last futile shove to Steve’s immoveable chest, he slumped into his hold, asking “Fine. You’re the man with a plan. So what’s the plan?”

Steve looked to where the water was darkest, coldest, deepest, answering quietly, gently, “We’re going to use the water, submerge ourselves.”

Steve could tell that Tony knew he wasn’t talking about a few seconds, but he didn’t say anything.

He still hadn’t said anything two minutes later, not when the water had crept up over Tony’s legs, waist, and chest, to just below his chin.   He hadn’t said anything when they’d waded in past Steve’s walking depth, and wading had become swimming.

He hadn’t said anything, he’d simply wrapped his arms more firmly around Steve’s shoulders and allowed himself to straighten, helping as best he could with his attempt at kicking to keep them afloat, Steve still doing most of the work.

Steve really needed him to say something.

“Do you know what they call this place?” The captain asked quietly, running a hand through Tony’s hair, trickling water over skin that was already warm to the touch, wishing for just a bit more light so he could make out the depths of Tony’s brown eyes.

He didn’t get any words, but did receive a “hmmm?”, and he’d take whatever he was offered.

“Lover’s Sanctuary” he answered dryly, and was rewarded with a smile and a weak laugh.

“How apt” Tony replied drolly, and Steve could hear the fear, could  _feel_  the fear, and wondered how Tony could stand this- the water and the memories and the terror.

And then light, golden and warm splashed across Tony’s face, kindling a thousand hues and tones in damp chestnut hair, sending shadows and lines into oblivion, and for an instant, he was the most wondrous sight Steve had ever seen, and he knew if they got out of this, he’d never, ever see anything quite so vividly again.

And nothing so much so as the complete and utter trust reflected back at him from unblinking brown eyes.

Steve leaned in and captured Tony’s lips with his own, wondering how their gentle passion could out burn even a wild blaze.  He whispered “Breathe” against Tony’s lips, and then, one long breath later, he stopped swimming, and they sank, fast, beneath the water.

* * *

 

Steve deflated his lungs and they sunk like a rock. They went down, down further than Steve had really anticipated, but that was okay, because deeper was better. The deeper they were the less heat would reach them.

Steve felt his ears ‘pop’ as the pressure changed, and the relatively murky lightness of the surface water gave way to deep inky darkness of the depths.  And finally they settled, Steve automatically folding into a cross-legged position as they reached the bottom.

Yet he noticed none of this, his entire focus on the man curled against his chest.  Tony appeared calm. Relaxed, or as relaxed as one might be under these circumstances. His eyes were closed and he was still, peaceful, but for the hands Steve could feel clenching and unclenching in the back of his t-shit.

The water around them heated slowly, but not unpleasantly so, the increase in temperature little more than that of a luke-warm bath. Comforting even, until Steve glanced up, and realised he was looking at flames licking against the surface above them.  
  
The vision, equal parts enthralling and terrifying, kept Steve’s attention until he became aware of Tony fidgeting against him, slowly morphing into a squirming writhe.

Steve bent, chasing Tony’s lips in the dark, and ignoring his attempt to pull back, Steve forced him to accept a mouthful of air.  The memory of other breaths of life pressed between desperate lips suddenly blindsided Steve, and he gentled the flow of air into a kiss, trying to draw away from the memory of Tony’s recent drowning,  for himself, as much as Tony.

Seconds passed in an eternity, Tony's head pressed against Steve’s chest, and after several seconds of steady tapping against his chest, Steve realized that Tony was using his heartbeat to keep calm. His own hand left Tony’s hip, coming up to settle over Tony’s where it rested against his chest, and his fingers joined the gentle tapping motion, connecting them.

Time slowed, stopped, and instant and so much longer, just the two of them existing in a quiet muffles world of softly glowing haze.  
  
The relative calm couldn’t last though, and Tony started to struggle.  Steve knew it wasn’t something he could soothe; this was pure raw human need driving Tony to struggle for air, struggle to live, and Tony Stark was exactly the type to struggle to survive when most others would have just given up and died. 

Steve was as gentle as he could be, as he moved from comforting to restraining, but he knew that if Tony got away from him, the super-heated air above would shred his already compromised lungs and he’d burn from the inside out.  
  
Steve had often, and with true concern, worried that Tony would burn himself out one day, but not this day.  
  
Tony may have been smaller than Steve, and lacking the enhancements of the serum, not to mention injured, but he was also a hell of a scrapper, and half of Steve’s mind was consumed with keeping Tony from hurting himself, and the other half from hurting Tony himself.  

 With Tony’s writhing form pinned to his chest with one arm, and the other coming up to clamp over his lovers mouth and nose to stop him breathing water, Steve had Tony trapped, but by no means restrained.

At first, it was simply Tony instinctively pushing against him, squirming, still aware enough to know that this was Steve holding him down, to know the reason, but to be unable to help himself.

Knowledge slowly gave way to desperation though, and desperation to terror, as the flashback swept Tony away from reality, and into the darkness and fear of the past.

Tony bucked against him, fighting for real, hands and feet flying, knees and elbows finding tender skin.  And then a fist connected with the side of Steve’s head. 

Steve would later admit to seeing stars, as it was, he was glad that there had been water cushioning the blow, and glad for the fact that Tony seemed to come back to his senses for a moment.  Curling into Steve, with his face buried against Steve’s shoulder, Tony’s entire frame quaking with _need,_ but his fingers were light and graceful as they traced over where they’d just graced pain.     
  
And then, as his already compromised lungs revolted violently against the lack of oxygen, and his body weakened, Tony slowly regressed to tremors and convulsions.  
  
Steve didn't think anything could be worse that the way Tony twitched and spasmed fitfully in his hold.

And then Tony stopped moving completely.  
  
Steve stared at surface, trying to judge the muted blue of the sky above, but with Tony’s complete and utter unresponsiveness in his arms he decided he simply couldn’t wait any longer.  
  
When he broke the surface, Steve only waited the bare minimum one breath, and upon deeming the air breathable, if unpleasantly warm air, he dragged Tony out of water. 

Tony was a limp pale mess, still and sodden.  
  
And he wasn’t breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author knows nothing of fire, other than that it is fascinating.
> 
> *EDIT* 07 Jan - Due to uploading of wrong file :(
> 
> Posted for 2015- Happy New Year all (Incidentally I turned 24 today!)
> 
> As always, Happy reading :)


	3. Deeply, Forever

In the immediate aftermath, Steve wouldn't remember the crackling remnants of the blaze as it slowly burnt out, wouldn't remember his own harsh breathing. He wouldn't remember the fear, shock or panic, barely held at bay.  He wouldn't remember the soft, wet  _thud_  Tony's body had made when Steve had heaved him out of the water onto the bank. Wouldn't remember the aching silence where there should have been breath.

Strangely, thinking back later, Steve would remember only the fizzle and hiss of water as it splashed down upon the steaming bank around him.

At the time though, the heat that bit at his legs didn't even register as he dropped to his knees beside Tony's motionless form.

For an instant, abject horror held Steve immobile, a raw mantra of 'What have I done?' repeating through his mind, echoing with savage guilt, devastation and the possibility of unimaginable loss.  

_Was this how it happened?_

Was this how the world lost Ironman, lost Tony _fucking_  Stark?

Was this how  _Steve_  lost  _Tony?_

To a cruel watery death, by Steve's own hand?

Tony, who had trusted him, beyond and above all else?

Tony, who was dead.

Trembling legs gave out beneath him, and Steve slumped backward onto the steaming bank, one shaking hand coming up to cover his eyes, shielding himself from what he'd done. Shielding, but unable to protect himself from the knowledge.

Wide blue eyes rolled in their sockets as anxiety induced vertigo caused white pinpricks of light to burst across his vision, and the edges to fade to black. Steve fought against the threatening darkness, because as inviting escape as unconsciousness would be, he didn’t deserve that escape.

For what he'd done, he deserved to stay awake, aware, deserved to feel this guilt, this devastation.

Deserved to feel this pain.

He deserved to die.

Wanted to.

And for that, Steve hated himself even more.

Tony, who’d never been anything less than full of life, was dead.

And not feet away, Steve _wanted_ to die. Felt like he _was_ dying, although whether more of grief or guilt he didn’t know.

Tony lay, cold and unmoving, his waxen skin an ashen grey, the blue tint of his lips nothing to do with the soft blue glow that flooded through sodden cotton, and Steve had done th-

_…blue glow._

_The arc reactor._

And Steve’s blurred, hazy surroundings snapped back into focus as his mind jolted with adrenaline and realisation, breaking through the blanket of shock that had settled over him.

* * *

 

Steve didn’t know how the arc reactor worked.

He knew that it was essentially a magnet that kept shrapnel from entering Tony’s heart and killing him, but beyond that, the arc reactor technology was completely foreign to him.

Steve didn’t know if the glow of the arc reactor meant Tony was still alive, but he also _didn’t_ know if it didn’t.

More than that, the utter familiarity of it, the comfort and assurance that he associated with that soft whir and muted glow, brought him back from the edge of self-immolation, and with a great heaving gasp, Steve threw himself toward Tony.

Trembling fingers circled a lax wrist, searching for a pulse and damp blond hair settled over equally damp cotton as Steve pressed his ear to Tony’s chest, listening for his heart beat.

His. And Tony’s.  

They were one and the same these days.

The whir of the arc reactor was loud, the rush of his own blood deafening in his ears, and Steve held his breath, straining to hear a soft _thu-thump, thu-thump_ through the suddenly cacophonous silence.

He felt a desperation stir low in his stomach, and something else, worse than the guilt and devastation, something that promised the potential to hurt him tenfold and again.

Hope.  

Something that, once kindled, would burn hotter than the fires of hell, unable to be controlled or dampened. It would build, and burn within, becoming stronger and more consuming with each moment, until finally it was realised, and became surety.    

Or was not realised, and became despair.

Cursing his own stupidity and thoughtlessness, Steve fumbled for a firmer hold on Tony’s wrist, feeling for the steady thump that would indicate life.  How could he have waisted so many precious seconds? Why hadn’t he tried immediately…

In the back of his mind, Steve knew how to do this.  They’d all done preliminary first-aid after the third mid-battle incident involving blood, and CPR had been one of the things they’d learnt.

But they’d never discussed this particular situation.

Why hadn’t anyone thought to ask, to find out?

Steve didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t find a pulse.  Could he even do chest compressions, with the arc reactor so invasive?

Was that a pulse he could feel, throbbing beneath his fingertips, or just the echoes of the thud of his own heart?  He couldn’t tell below the vibrations of his shaking hand.

The chest beneath his ear didn’t rise or fall, and no air passed through Tony’s slightly parted lips.

Yet, beneath the soft whir of the arc reactor, strangely loud in the silence, Steve could hear it.

_Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thu-thump._

A heartbeat.  Quiet, thready and irregular, but still there.

Tony was still alive.

Alive, but not breathing.

* * *

 

Steve knew how to do this, but it hadn’t been the learning, memory or any deliberate reasoning that had prompted him to lean over, seal his lips over Tony’s and _breathe._

It had just been the screaming in his mind, demanding that he do _something_.

Another breath and Steve pulled back, watching as Tony’s chest fell again, Steve’s air escaping his unresponsive lungs. 

Tony remained ominously still beneath Steve’s bowed form, lips parted, softly glistening from the recently departed mouth that sought to save him.

Steve swallowed thickly, hope and paralysing fear tearing at him in equal measure, and he leaned down, breathing again, one hand settling heavily beside the arc reactor, hoping to feel a quiver of muscle or a draw of air.

“Please. _Please._ Come on Tony. Don’t do this, don’t- _please…_ ” Steve whispered fervently, begging into the sudden quiet of the night, the inferno having burnt down to slow hissing pops and soft cracks in the distance.

Sudden focus chasing away the dark wavering shadow that lurked at the edges of his mind, Steve pressed his lips to Tony’s again, sharing his breath with a level of determination that only someone with a loved one in mortal peril could ever hope to achieve.

Running a shuddering hand over clammy skin, Steve whistled a loose breath between his teeth, tense and desperate as he watched for the steady rise of Tony’s chest to follow his slow involuntary exhale.  When it didn’t come, Steve heaved a broken gasping sob, and pressed his lips back to lax ones that didn’t respond to his touch.

The dark fog of before was gone, the shock replaced by focus and resolve. He could do this. He _had_ to do this. Failure was not an option.

“Breathe. Come on, Tony, _breathe!_ ” Steve ordered, the demand in his voice so overwhelmingly authoritative that Tony would have likely broken out in hives and an equally proportionate disposition of ‘ _go fuck yourself_ ’ had he heard.

Tony didn’t so much as twitch, and _The Captain_ faded away, replaced by _Steve,_ hopelessly, desperately in love, slowly dying inside, breathing air into Tony’s mouth and ghosting desperation across his lips, “ _Please, please. I can’t lose- I_ _need you._ **I need you.** _Please. Tony. Breathe…_ ” 

And Tony did. 

Steve pulled back, just slightly, as Tony suddenly spasm beneath him, great heaving, shuddering gasps of air filling the silence around them. 

Shock, disbelief and throat seizing gratitude stole Steve’s higher thought capabilities for a second, before glazed, panicked brown eyes drifted over him, and shaking himself out of it, Steve reached out to draw Tony to his chest. 

With a wet spluttering shriek, Tony flinched violently away, scuttling backwards with a pained yelp, a half bitten off sob caught between trembling lips as he rasped out, “ ** _Get the fuck away_**!”

* * *

 

The dim lighting of the cave pierced the sullen darkness as Tony was forced back to consciousness, his brain sluggishly trying to fire, but his exhausted, terrified mind was resisting the reboot, longing to return to the escape of oblivion.

He was wet.   

They’d fucking tried drowning him in a barrel of water.  Again.

Each and every time he refused, was steadfast in his stubborn obstinacy, but they’d seen enough to know that _he would break_ , eventually.  The water would break him.  It terrified him, the sudden plunge into black tepid water, his eyes stinging as he forced them open, desperately trying to see.  Bubbles of precious oxygen pebbling from his pressed lips, sliding away, to the surface where he couldn’t go.  The worst, lacking any sense of control, struggling despite knowing the absolute vanity of the action, knowing that they could so easily go too far, and he’d drown for real, die, or that heavy weight cradled in his arms would spark to life, and fry him from the heart out.

Trickles of water crawled from his hairline and down his neck, irritating his hyper-sensitized skin, and a full body shiver of revulsion shook him.

Searing pain ravaged his lungs, his chest throbbing with heavy agony, Tony shook himself further from the grasping darkness, his body twitching and spasming uncontrollably as he rode the pain to the surface.

Finally, he opened his eyes, vision blurry and wet as he blinked warily at the dank ceiling that hang low and dark above him, smoke tendrils from the one of the terrorist’s fires curling through the air. 

And then his eyes found the looming form before him, and widened as panic and fear shot through him like wildfire. They _always_ dumped him in the corner of the cave when he passed out, leaving him alone- _was it not over yet?_

The figure reached for him, and Tony threw himself backwards with a strangled yell, gasping back a pained whimper as coils of agony swept over him, thoughts circling in frantic alarm, _no, not the water, not again. Not the water…_ his voice was raspy as he fought back,because _he always fought back,_ “ **Get the fuck away!”**

And the figure did, pulling back immediately, which threw Tony so far off guard that he actually stilled his defensive flailing to stare.

And saw dirty blonde hair, plastered wetly over pasty white skin, high points of flush in an otherwise colourless face and eyes so wide, so, blue, so anguished, so familiar.

_Fire, running, water, breath, burning, Steve._

_“Steve”_ , the word was soft breath on a sigh, and then Tony launched himself _toward_ the shadowy figure.

* * *

 

Arms automatically coming up to catch the armful of wet, shivering genius, Steve blinked down stupidly, still trying to make the sudden leap from _terrified,_ to _fearless._

Tony had looked at him with such complete and total fear, such terror, Steve had been sure his heart had shattered into a thousand tiny pieces in his chest. Tony was afraid, _of him._  

Steve couldn’t blame him.

He’d forced his lover under the water, held him down while he drowned. Steve had _drowned_ him, put him through what was probably one of the most terrifying ways to die that Tony could possible think of, in the same manner that he’d been tortured. Still had nightmares about still too many nights of the week for comfort, and feared like nothing else.

Tony should hate him, fear him. 

And yet, here he was, curled within Steve’s arms, face buried against Steve’s chest, his hands fisted in damp cotton, shuddering and shaking and coming apart, but not afraid, at least, _not afraid of Steve._

The sound of teeth chattering violently drew Steve back from his shock, and he wrapped an arm more tightly around Tony’s waist, turning him within his grasp, pulling him closer, flush against his body. 

It wasn’t cold, but Tony was wet, and likely in some severity of shock, still unsure as to exactly what had happened, frightened and confused.

A hitched breath, barely holding out from being a sob rent the air between them, and Steve, squeezed tighter, murmuring “Hey, hey, s-shhh. Deep breaths. I’ve got you, you’re alri- ”

His own breath hitched and his eyes watered as he realized the truth of the statement, somehow, Tony was still here, with him. Only a minute or two ago he’d been sure Tony was gone, that the person who had brought him to life and kept him sane, whom he loved more that he’d ever thought possible was dead, and that it was his own fault.

And now Tony was pressed as close as he could literally get without crawling into Steve’s skin, his arms wound about Steve as he shivered and shook, frightened, hurt and confused, but _alive._

“ _You’re alright_. You- you’re still- I’m-” Steve trailed off unable to find the words he wanted, unable to express his complete and utter world-turning gratitude, that somehow, against all odds Tony Stark had once again defied expectations.

Tony curled closer, shivering with such force that he was all but vibrating from Steve’s grasp, his lips murmuring soundlessly against Steve’s throat.

“ _Thankyou_ ”, Steve wasn’t sure who he was whispering the heartfelt thanks to, but he meant it, fervently, with all his heart.

Steve would have happily sat there for the next however many hours, content to cradle Tony, warm and moving, against his chest, but Tony was in shock, injured, and had been unconscious for several minutes. Steve needed to get them to help.

Using one arm to keep his quivering lover upright, Steve couldn’t help the smile that stole across his face at Tony’s groan of displeasure, the small gesture of annoyance more reassuring than any placating answer of ‘I’m fine’.  

Steve brought his free hand up and caught Tony from the left, cradling his cheek, keeping his head from weaving drunkenly on his shoulders.  He met brown eyes with blue, and holding until they focused, spoke quietly, enunciating carefully “Tony? You with me, Sweetheart?”

“Mhmm.” was his response; along with what would have been a very convincing nod, had it not been for the previously noted head weaving.

Steve smiled, fond and gentle, “If you say so. Do you know where you are? What-” Steve had to stop, swallowing thickly, before continuing “What happened?”

Tony nodded, his voice a raspy raw mess as he answered, “Always the fucking water-” before breaking into a fit of gasping, spluttering coughs. His whole body was shaking violently from the onslaught, and between harsh breaths of air and choking coughs that did little but trigger more choking coughs, Steve could hear hiccupping whimpers of pain.

Dragging Tony close again, he placed a hand over his lovers stomach, speaking quietly, “Slow breaths, through your nose.”  Tony tried to follow his direction, but each breath triggered another coughing fit, and each coughing fit was worse than the one before, sending shudders of agony down Tony’s back and into his limbs.

Steve felt useless, helpless. The only thing that might help was a drink of water, but the grotto behind them was the only source, and they had nothing to carry it in. There was no way he was going to drag Tony over and shove his face back under the surface.

“Breathe, come on- Look at me, ”Steve’s voice was reassuring, for all that he was panicking as he watched the tint of blue return to soft pink lips.

Tears of pain and oxygen deprivation where stream down Tony’s cheeks as he hiccupped and gasped between coughs, and unable to think of anything else, Steve brought the hem of his shirt up to wipe them away-

God, for a supposedly brilliant tactician, he was brick thick.

Stripping his shirt off over his head in one swift movement, Steve flung it out behind him, keeping hold of the hem. He heard the dull splash as the upper part of the shirt landed in the water, and a second later, he dragged his sodden, dripping shirt back into his arms.

“Trust me, hold still-” Steve didn’t explain, as he shifted Tony, bending him down backwards over a supporting arm, his other balling a section of the shirt into his fist, and holding it over Tony’s mouth, he said, “Open your mouth, don’t breathe in.” and squeezed.

The tiny rivulet of water landed exactly where Steve had intended, and Tony swallowed the small mouthful slowly, in several ‘sips’, his throat soothed by the liquid, but his mind not, and he shuddered violently as the wet shirt dripped onto his chest.

Steve discarded it behind himself, and dragged Tony back into his embrace, tucking the dark head of hair beneath his chin as he rocked him slowly, a huff of relief the only sound that escaped him as Tony finally stopped coughing.

“So. Let’s not do that again any time soon” Tony said quietly, barely more than a whisper, raspy at a low husk, but it didn’t trigger any coughing.

“Agreed.” Steve answered, pressing his lips to Tony’s temple, squeezing once tightly before settling back, saying, “What’s say we see about getting out of here? I know a good doctor that would probably like to take a look at you right about now.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t think I’d mind seeing him either, right about now, if only so Jolly green could give us a lift home-” Tony bemoaned, slowly starting to sit upright, limbs still trembling, cold to the core, but forcing himself to gather his remaining energy, wan though the offering was.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Steve asked, pulling Tony back down against him, carding his fingers through cold tangles when Tony simply huffed a breath against his cheek and slumped bonelessly as he answered, contrary to his behaviour, “Up. Walking, you know. Home?”

“Injured ankle, injured wrist, smoke inhalation, drowned- I’m carrying you.” Steve replied drolly, wondering if he was about to have an argument with Tony, when the man could hardly sit up.

It really wouldn’t surprise him.

“Oh. Okay.”, was Tony’s mumbled reply, and _that_ did worry Steve.

Looking down he was met with half hooded eyes, as exhaustion and fatigue caught up to Tony as adrenaline wore off.

“Hey. Hey, stay awake. No slacking off on me.” Steve prodded, also concerned by the continuing trembles that wracked Tony’s body, despite both of them having been mostly dried by the lingering heat.

“M’ not. Up, cap- home-“, Tony garbled around a yawn, settling more heavily into Steve’s arms, his eyes dipping closed completely.

Steve got to his feet, slowly, carefully, an arm going beneath Tony’s legs to cradle him sideways, bridal style.  

With Tony wheezing softly, still shivering and shuddering intermittently in his arms, Steve turned toward the gaping mouth of the canyon in the distance, and was suddenly struck by exactly how far he had to go, before they even reached a road, let alone found help.

It had seemed such a short distance in their mad dash earlier in the night, fire breathing down their necks and snapping at their heels. The distance that stretched out before him now, full of overturned logs, small gorges, and still burning patches, that he had to traverse on legs that felt like spaghetti, with the most precious part of his life solely reliant on him, was near unfathomable.

But Steve would walk through flames for the man in his arms, even if that was a literal interpretation, and so, with a deep fortifying breath, he started off into the denser part of the smouldering forest.

He’d gone not 50 meters when his enhanced hearing picked it up.

The distinctive thump of the quinjet engines.

* * *

 

“He really should be in a hospital. He needs to be monitored.” Bruce said quietly, continuing a discussion that had obviously been going on for a while.

Steve sighed, looking up from where his fingers were idly drawing loops across the hem of Tony’s pillowcase, “He won’t go, and if he does he won’t stay, and if he does he won’t relax, he won’t rest. You know better than anyone, Bruce, what he’s like in hospitals.”

Bruce looked torn, the doctor in him demanding that Tony be seen by an actual professional. That someone with a history of drowning, a history of lung infections and chest problems, with something so invasive as the arc reactor, someone who’d been unconscious, possibly _dead_ , shouldn’t be anywhere _other_  than hospital.

The friend demanded that everyone just back off and let Tony sleep. That what he needed most he’d only find right here, already beside him, in the form of his very protective partner, devoted friends and supportive family. That hospitals, and Tony’s utter hate and understandable mistrust, would only make the situation worse.

The monster just raged at the senselessness of what had happened, at how useless they all felt, upset that there was nothing to SMASH in retaliation.

In the end, the friend won out, and Bruce nodded slowly, replying, “Okay. But at the first, the _very first_ sign of something getting worse, he’s straight to hospital. Don’t leave him alone.”

“Not even for a second”, Steve promised, a small smile breaking across his still pale face as he tucked one of Tony’s hands in his, as if to say _, ‘See- I’ve got your back’._

Bruce nodded again, gathering up his bag as he stood, his eyes mapping over Tony’s still form, curled up beneath the blankets of his ridiculously large bed, to the blond man seated on the edge, half curled over his lover.

He was fairly sure that somewhere in the back of Steve’s mind, there was also the reasoning of not wanting to let Tony out of his sight, even for a second, which would no doubt happen at a hospital.

Bruce couldn’t say he blamed the man.

“Let me know when he wakes up. Take it easy Steve, you get some rest too and if you need someone- to talk to, or even just to sit with… you know where I am.” Bruce smiled at the duck of Steve’s head, glad for the small nod he received as he turned and left the room.

* * *

 

As the door slid shut silently behind the departing physicist, Steve relaxed into an uncharacteristic slump, running a hand through his gritty feeling, but thankfully dry, hair, and down over the side of his face.

Silence engulfed the room, and Steve sat truly still, mind and body, for the first time since he’d woken to an orange glow on the horizon.  Just out of his field of vision, a minute head tilt to the left, Tony lay sleeping, peacefully, safe and sound in the familiar comfort of their bedroom.

Steve felt his hands start to tremble gently, and breathed in a deep, jagged, shuddering breath that filled his lungs, and breathed out slowly, eyes slipping closed as he tried to let go of the build-up of unimaginable emotional toil.  

He felt…jittery, like he needed to go for a run, but at the same time, so bone deep exhausted, that he felt he could sleep for a week.  His mind was a sluggish repartition of the worst evening of his life, and then a spark of one of the best moments of his life.

Getting to his feet carefully, Steve moved away from the bed, lest his sudden restless feeling wake Tony, Steve wandered across the room, kicking off still wet trainers and damp socks as he went, his toes curling into the soft luxury of the carpet, grounding himself.

He stopped by the windows, pressing his hands flat against the ceiling to floor glass panels that looked out over the sleeping city from 90 stories above the earth.  Pre-dawn light was just beginning to glow on the horizon, and Steve knew that he would have to close the curtains soon, or the light would wake Tony, but for a moment he just stared.

Lights of all colours glowed across the cityscape like a million sparks of energy, some twinkling, flashing, and strobing, others constant and unwavering. Even so early in the morning, the city never truly stopped, and for once, Steve was glad for the gentle hum he could feel travelling up his legs, and slight blur of movement he could see below.

“Steve?”, came the soft questioning voice from behind him.

Not of his identity, Tony would have been a hell of a lot less calm had he been unsure who was in the bedroom with him, but groggy, muffled, and laced with warmth and concern and need and longing.

Steve stared out for a moment longer, but not wanting to worry his already hurt lover, he slowly drew his attention inward, his gaze focusing on the reflection in the window, rather than what was beyond it.

Soft blue glow seeped across the glass, lighting upon the angles and curves of the room, and as Steve gazed at Tony’s shadow-kissed reflection, he felt his heart finally calm back to its usual steady beat, his jittery nerves relaxed and the building anxiety just flowed from his extremities.

Closing the curtains, he turned from the reflection to face the real thing.

Tony was sitting up in bed, although _sitting up_ was used lightly, the genius was all but folded in on himself in an attempt to stay half upright against the sea of pillows that polluted the bed.  His hair was an absolute shock of tangles, some flattened against his skull, some curly from the water and most of it more likeable to a birds nest than Tony’s usually half-coifed head of hair.   

His skin was still pale, alabaster almost, in the darkness of the room, and Steve could see where high points of colour sat at his cheeks and dusted across his nose. Bruce had warned him to watch for a high fever, but that a low grade one was to be expected for a little while.

Dark brown eyes were an almost oily black in the shadows of the room, and Steve could see the exhaustion bruising beneath them, but while being tired and more than a little glazed, they were bright and alive with spark.  

“Take a picture, It’ll last longer” Tony sassed quietly, breaking Steve from his revere and propelling him into movement across the room.

“I’ll draw one later, if I can get you to sit still long enough”, Steve replied, knowing the comeback was weak, but not caring when a sappy smile chased a huff of laughter from Tony’s lips.

“Planning on staring melancholically at the city all night, or would you prefer to wrap your boyfriend in a  frankly ridiculous number of blankets and smother him with ‘ _Thank god we made it kisses’_? I’m probably not up to full _‘near death experience aftermath sex_ ’, but I can- ” Tony trailed off when Steve flinched, his own smile dripping away with a sigh, and he held out a hand to where Steve had stopped his approach.

“Come here.” Tony said, actually wiggling his fingers in invitation, and Steve felt another smile threaten to break out despite the fact that his heart had just about stuttered to a standstill when Tony had mentioned what had happened in such a light, trivial manner.

Only his Tony.

His fingers slipped into Tony’s like they were made for each other, intertwining easily, and Steve allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed with several weak tugs of his hand.  He settled on the far edge of the bed, his arm stretched across the expanse between them, his fingers locked with Tony’s in the middle.

Tony snorted with exasperated frustration, tugging again, weak and lacklustre but bearing plenty of insistence just the same.

Steve hesitated, explaining, “Your wrist is broken, and your ankle is sprained…I don’t want to jostle y-”

“Well that’s too bad, because I fucking well want to be jostled, and I want to be jostled by my fucking boyfriend right this fucking second. Can’t a guy even get a fucking hug? Fuck! ” It started out jovial, teasing, but within two sentences, all humour had left Tony’s voice and the last word was bitten out on a sob.

Steve hushed him with soft murmuring; wordless noises that devolved into one another as he carefully rolled across the bed and gathered Tony into his arms.

For the longest time, no one spoke.  Steve’s fingers carded through snarled curls, loosening tangles, and swept down over Tony’s neck and upper back, a warm, heavy, familiar pressure.   Tony simply laid still, eyes closed and breathing evening out as he soaked up Steve’s warm presence.

Finally it was Tony who spoke, his voice a muffled murmur against Steve’s chest, “Do you think this is like, divine retribution or something? Karma? Am I such a horrible person that I deserve to be drowned like a rat?”  

The question itself wasn’t serious, but Steve could hear the true question beneath, and his own voice was intense as he replied, “No. Sometimes things just happen. No rhyme, no reason. Unbelievable, incredible, implausible, all the same, they happen. ”

“I suppose you’d know, Mr 1940’s- ” Tony sighed, before adding, “I guess I just- I can’t stand it.  I don’t want to go through it all again. I don’t want the nightmares, and the flashbacks and the stupid irrational fears. I don’t want you guys t-  I just want to be fucking normal.  Fucking water. ”

“Fucking ice.”

Tony stiffened beside him, and Steve almost regretted the words, knowing that it sounded like he was comparing Tony’s fear with his own, trivialising it by calling it common, not important, but that wasn’t what he meant at all.

“Everyone has something that is their weakness, a chink in their armour, “Steve explained, and feeling Tony relax against him, he continued, “We’re here for you, just like you’re here for us.  As long as it takes, even if that’s forever.”

“Why Steve, that almost sounded like a proposal!”, Tony teased, trying to shift the attention away from himself in the best way he knew how, deflection.

It didn’t really work, with Steve just smiling enigmatically as he answered, “Nah, I’ve got something much better than that planned.”

Tony actually pulled back to stare up at him.

And then promptly decided to pretend he hadn’t heard a thing, tucking his face back against Steve’s chest and asking, “So, who showed up to rescue us?”

Steve grinned when he realised that his own deflection had actually worked, even if it wasn’t too far from the truth. At all.

“How do you know I didn’t carry you out?” Steve asked, shuddering as he remembered those few meters in which he thought he’d have to do exactly that.

“I just know things” Tony replied, and then waving a hand across the room he said, “And that’s Clint’s blanket off the quinjet”

Steve nodded, “Yeah, Clint found us about five minutes after you passed out agai-”

“Fell asleep-” Tony interrupted.

“Passed out again”, Steve reiterated with a grin, continuing “He had Bruce with him, Thor was in the sky and Nat was with S.H.I.E.L.D”

Tony nodded, his fingers coming up to dance across a cuff bandage wrapped around Steve’s upper arm, “Bruce’s work then?” he asked quietly.

Steve nodded, “Yeah- it’s just a scratch, a branch whipped me while we were running I think, but you know what Bruce is like-”

“I do. And that begs the question, _how am I still here_ as opposed to some sterile emergency care ward?” Tony asked, his fingers trailing away from the bandage, down Steve’s arm to wind their fingers back together.

“I convinced Bruce you’d be better off here- you need to rest and I know you won’t in hospital.” Steve explained, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over Tony’s knuckles.

“What!? I’ve said that _every time_ in the history of _every time_ I’ve been injured, and Bruce never listens to me! ” Tony had squawked, before lowering his voice when a cough attacked him, although thankfully didn’t turn into a coughing fit like earlier.

Steve smiled, “I guess I’m just more trustworthy than you. And I gave my word to Bruce that you’d stay in bed, off your ankle, wouldn’t use your wrist, wouldn’t shout, would drink plenty of water and would call for help if you didn’t feel well, and I damn well intend to see that you don’t make be break that promise Tony Stark.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but nodded his agreement; after all, Bruce couldn’t expect him to actually _follow that directive._

Could he?

Steve grinned softly, knowing exactly what Tony was thinking.

They lay in silence for a few moments, simply wrapped in each other’s presence and warmth. Steve felt Tony slowly becoming heavier against him, slumber calling for its wayward charge once again.

He knew if he was going to say this, he had to say it now.

No one had ever called Captain America a coward.

“Tony?” he started, half hoping Tony wouldn’t answer, would slip into slumber unaware.

Tony stretched languidly against him, and murmured a soft, “Mhmm?”

Steve drew together his last stores of courage and all but whispered into Tony’s hair, “I’m sorry.”

“No. No, no, no. Just no. ” It was amazing how Tony went from mostly asleep to completely alert in point two of a second.

Steve sighed, resting an arm over his eyes so he could speak into the darkness, “Yes. This was my _\- I did this_.”

“Did what!? Saved my life? Saved us both?! ” Tony bit back, sleep forgotten.

Steve grimaced at such a stupidly blind thing to say, answering, “I _killed_ you _!_ I _drowned_ y-”

A hand over his mouth shut Steve up, and Tony levered himself upright with a grunt, broken wrist held protectively against his chest as he tugged at the arm covering Steve’s eyes until the man gave, lest Tony hurt himself in the effort.

“Steven Rogers, you saved my life, in the only way you could think of. If you hadn’t I’d definitely be dead. ” Tony argued back.

“Steve pushed himself up a little too, not meeting Tony’s gaze as he shot back, “I should have done better! I should have found a better way. Don’t you get it Tony? I Held you under the water unt-”

“Stop! You don’t get to do this. I can’t- I don’t ever want to even think about you- That you would be able to-” and Tony felt his throat close, Obadiah’s face floating in his fore-vision as he dwelled on what Steve was saying, what betrayal he was trying to reveal.

“No. No, never. I could-” Steve stilled, and really thought about what he was saying. 

He could never.

“I could never.” And he meant it.

Something shifted inside him, and still the guilt remained, the shame and fear, but it changed, _just slightly,_ into something less consuming, less soul devouring.

He could never.

And more than that, Tony apparently already knew.

“Okay.  Okay- I’m sorry. Sorry that it happened, that I hurt you” Steve amended, all truth and no false blame this time.

Tony slumped against him with a pained whimper, jostling his wrist. The relief that poured off him was palpable.

“I forgive you. And thankyou. And… I’m sorry too. ” Tony finished, propping his head up on his good arm to look up at Steve through his eyelashes.

Steve frowned, his fingers finding Tony’s cheek, cradling, as he’d done earlier in the night, “You’d better not be apologising for getting hurt, for not being able to climb, for slowing me down or anything equally as ridiculous…”

 “No, although… but, no. I’m sorry that you went through that. And- I’m sorry I pulled away from you when I came to. “

“It’s okay, you’d had a fright. I’d hurt you, even if intelectuall-” Steve tried to reassure, but Tony wasn’t having any of it.

“I wasn’t seeing you. It was never you. I was having a flashback- of the cave.  Your face, the look on your face when I- you pulled me out of the nightmare.  You- I know you’ll always pull me out. No matter the nightmare, be it real or of my imagination, I know-  I know you’ve got me.” Tony finished.

Steve was silent, and remained silent for a very long time, unable to find the words to reply to such a declaration from one such as Tony who trusted a very strict few in the same degree he loved.

Deeply, forever.

Eventually, long after Tony had fallen asleep, and the sun had started to rise, Steve finally knew the correct, and only answer to such a declaration, and he whispered it into the quiet of a morning he hadn’t been sure they’d get to see.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for 'In the Heat of the Moment'- I hope you all enjoyed the ride and will tune in for part 6!
> 
> \- As always, I encourage you to point out errors you notice :)
> 
> Notes-   
> \- So, being a machine, and not actually powered by Tony’s heart in any way that we know of, the arc reactor might very well continue to work after Tony himself dies. But. I is author. And I says it doesn't. Because of reasons and plot development.  
> -Also, author claims no medical knowledge beyond basic first aid and CPR. Research was conducted, but I’ll admit, most of this came from the areas of my brain that don’t play host to solid fact, i.e. - my imagination.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I give you part five of 'As Easy As...', welcome to the ride.  
> Be prepared for angst like woah!  
> Seriously.
> 
> Chap2 preview:  
> Above them, almost obscured by the dark density of the water, the sky burned red as flames rollicked over the surface and licked at the rock wall behind them. Steve knew, if they surfaced now, if they breathed the superheated air above them- they'd burn from the inside out.
> 
> So he held Tony down. Trapped him beneath the water.


End file.
